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Primary Fridays. 



ORIGINAL AND SELECTED 



RHCITATIONS FOR THE LITTLE ONHS. 



EDITED BY HELEN GILBERT. 



CHICAGO, ILL: 

S. R. WINCHELL & CO., PUBLISHERS. 

i88c. 



Primary Fridays. 



ORIGINAL AND SELECTED 

RECITATIONS FOR THE UTTEE ONES. 



y 



EDITED BY HELEN GILBERT. 






CHICAGO, ILL: \c ^^ ^ ^ ') / 

S. R. WINCHELL & CO., PUBLISHERS. \ 

1 880. "^ . 



7^ 






Copyright, t88o, S. R. Winchkll & Co. 



i> 



?^ 



PREFACE. 

"Mamma, I have to 'speak a piece' next Friday. My teacher 
says so," says the little boy or girl in ''first grade" work. The 
mother searches in her old school-readers and volumes of poems 
for something suitable for her little one to "speak ," but findin 
nothing says, despairingly, "Ask your teacher for a piece". The 
teacher finds it quite as difficult to give recitations to her forty 
or fifty as the mother to her one or two little ones. In order to 
assist mothers and primary teachers out of this dilemma, this 
little book has been compiled. Many of the poems are claimed 
by the editor as her own. For others she acknowledges her in- 
debtedness to the publishers who have given kind consent to her 
use of poems from their publications. She specially thanks the 
Lippincotts for those taken from "The Prattler." Still others 
of the "pieces" have come to her from children's lips, and 
she does not know to whom she should return her thanks. 

Helen Gilbert. 

Chicago, 1880. 



o o int T E :sr T s . 





page. 


Suppose . . 


r 


My Sistzr 


2 


The Birds 


2 


Mabel on a Midsummer Day 


3 


Christmas Eve ...... 


4 


Josh's Pig 


5 


The White Kittens 


7 


Wha.t THE Minutes Say 


7 


Homeless 


8 


The Bee's Song 


8 


The Lamb 


9 


Birdie and Baby 


9 


Little White Lily 


lO 


The Way To Do It 


• II 


Paying Toll 


12 


The New Bonnet 


13 


Listen 


13 


Kissing A Sunbeam ...... 


14 


The Contrast 


14 


The Months 


15 


A Bouquet 


16 


The Questi n 


17 


Tiny Maggie Doo 


18 


The Early Bird 


19 


Now 


19 

20 


bUNBEAMS 


Angry Words 


20 


My Mamma IS Growing Gray 


21 


Grandpapa's Spectacles 


21 


The Little Boy's Dream 


22 


The Pumpkin 


22 


The Windmill 


23 



Christmas 

Silver Stars 

Baby Land 

Flowers 

The Chicken's Mistake 

Be Happy 

Four Seasons 26 

The Dray Horse and the Racer 26 

Tommy Grace 26 

The Storm 27 

Gracie's Malta 27 

Beautiful Grandmama 28 

Too Little 29 

My Dear Kitty ... . 30 

The Best Way to Be Happy 30 

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep 31 

The Great Brown Owl 31 

What 1 Want 32 

Robin Redbreast ^^ 

Mary's Jumping-Jack ...... ^^ 

Spring Has Come 34 

Coming Froivi School 34 

Kiss of the Rain 

The Robin's Nest , 

Be Careful 35 

An Indignation Meeting 36 

The Close-Fisted Deacon 37 

The Sparrow ^ 38 

On a Sunday Morning ^S 

Mr. Tongue 38 

Little Moments ^8 

Half Past-Eight 39 

Our Bossy 39 

The Old Well 39 

Doctor Charlie 40 

God Sees Me 40 

Chkistmas Carol 41 

If I Were You 41 

Frog's at School 42 

Seven Times One 42 



34 
35 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS 



SUPPOSE. 

Suppose, my little lady, 
Your doll should break her head., 
Could you make it whole by crying 
Till your eyes and nose were red ? 

And wouldn't it be pleasanter 
To treat it as a joke, 
And say you're glad 'twas dolly's 
And not your head that broke ? 

Suppose your' re dressed for walking. 
And the rain comes pouring down, 
Will it clear off any sooner 
Because you scold and frown ? 

And wouldn't it be nicer 
For you to smile than pout. 
And so make sunshine in the house 
When there is none without ? 

Suppose your task, my little man, 
Is very hard to get, 
Will it make it any easier 
For you to sit and fret ? 

And wouldn't it be wiser 
Than waiting like a dunce. 
To go to work in earnest. 
And learn the thing at once ? 

Suppose that some boys have a horse. 
And some a coach and pair. 
Will it tire you less with walking, 
To say, *'It isn't fair?" 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

And wouldn't it be nobler 
To keep your temper sweet, 
And in your heart be thankful 
You can walk upon your feet ? 

Suppose the world don't please you, 
Or the way some people do. 
Do you think the whole creation 
Will be altered just for you ? 

And isn't it, my boy or girl, 
The wisest, bravest plan, 
Whatever comes or doesn't come, 
To do the best you can ? 

— Phxbe Gary. 



MY SISTER. 

I have a little sister, 

Her name is Ella More ; 
She's very good and gentle. 

And never slams the door ; 
She's very kind and loving, 

Especially to me j 
And you will always find her, 

As busy as a bee. 

She has sweet, rosy lips. 

And eyes of hazel hue ; 
Oh ! how they dance and sparkle. 

Like sunlight on the dew ! 

And now that I have told you. 

About the little dear — 
The reason that I love her, 

Must be to you quite clear. 

— Young Folks* Monthly. 



THE BIRDS. 

God made the little birds to sing. 
And flit from tree to tree j 

'Tis He who sends them in the spring 
To sing for you and me. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS, 

MABEL ON A MIDSUMMER DAY. 

"Arise my Maiden Mabel," 
The mother said, ''Arise, 
For the golden sun of midsummer 
Is shining in the skies. 

"Arise, my little maiden. 
For thou must speed away. 
To wait upon thy grandmother, 
This livelong summer day. 

"And thou must carry with thee 
This wheaten cake so fine, 
This new made pat of butter. 
This little flask of wine. 

"And tell the dear old body 

This day I cannot come. 

For the good man went out yesterday. 

And he is not come home. 

"And more than this, poor Amy 
Upon my knee doth lie, 
I fear me with this fever -pain 
The little child will die! 

"And thou canst help thy grandmother, 
The table tViou canst spread, 
Canst feed the little dog and bird. 
And thou canst make her bed. 

"And thou canst fetch the water 
From the lady- well hard by. 
And thou canst gather from the wood. 
The faggots brown and dry ; 

"Canst go down to the lonesome glen, 
And milk the mother ewe. 
This is the work, my Mabel, 
That thou wilt have to do. 

"Yet keep good heart, my Mabel, 
If thou the fairies see, 
And give them kindly answer. 
If they should speak to thee. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

**And when thou goest to the spring, 
To fetch the water thence, 
Do not disturb the little stream 
Lest this should give offense ; 

''For the queen of all the fairies — 
She loves that water bright, 
I've seen her drinking there, myself, 
On many a summer night. 

"But she's a gracious lady, ■ 
And her thou needst not fear. 
Only disturb thou not the stream 
Nor spill the water clear." 

"Now all this I will heed, mother, 
Will no word disobey, 
And wait upon the grandmother, 
This livelong summer day " 

:}f. if. if. if. if. 

'Tis good to make all duty sweet. 
To be alert and kind, 
'Tis good like little Mabel, 
To have a willing mind. 



-Mary Howitt. 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 



Stars are shining everywhere 
Through the frosty Christmas air ; 
Jack Frost sketches on the pane 
Hints of fern and waving grain ; 
All the nests are filled with snow. 
Hidden in the tall hedgerow 
Where the brambles used to run. 
In the happy summer sun. 
Star-beams touch the ice-clad trees 
Into splendid jewelries, 
Till the world appears to shine 
In a halo half-divine. 
Sleepy eyes now wait to catch 
Good Saint Nicholas lift the latch. 



PRIMA R Y FRIDA YS. 

JOSH'S PIG. 

There was an old woman who lived by the sea, 

As I shall shortly tell, 
In a little brown house, by a cedar tree. 

With a pig-sty, barn, and well. 

Now this old woman was queer and stiff, 

Her husband had sailed away, 
And her sons lay dead this many a year 

Deep down in Buzzard's Bay. 

She lived alone on the vine-yard shore ; 

Except for one small child. 
She scowled at all who came to her door, 

But for little Josh she smiled. 

O, a naughty, and merry boy was he. 

Who loved to have his way. 
To play all day by the edge of the sea, 

And to dance about in the spray. 

To stone the peeps on the shining beach, 

And to scare his granny to bits. 
Swimming almost in the breakers* reach, 

Where they foam on the sandy spits. 

Josh had a torment of his own, 

A torment and delight, 
A little black pig that lived all alone, 

In the wood-shed, day and night. 

A wee, fat pig, with a curly tail. 

And eyes as black as coals, 
Ears upright like a schooner's sail, 

And a nose as sharp as a mole's. 

The funniest pig that ever you saw. 
He could scratch ^nd bite and squeal. 

And everything went to his hungry maw. 
That he could beg or steal. 

Over the turnips, just set out. 

And over the growing corn. 
And root them up with his wicked snout. 

The worst pig ever was born. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

He would scramble out of his tiny pen, 

Open the woodshed door, 
And break up the nest of the sitting hen. 

And scamper down to the shore. 

Now one day Josh began to run 

As fast as he could go, 
For the soldiers were coming with sword and gun. 

From the city that lay below. 

Josh ran away to the woods to hide, 

But granny, she stayed at home ; 
She was old, and weak, and stiff besides ; 

She stayed to see them come. 

They drove the cow from her little farm. 

They killed her hens and cocks, 
They stole her skeins of good gray yarn. 

And her store of winter socks. 

She bore it all in silent rage. 

But the heart in her breast grew big, 

And granny forgot her feeble age. 
When they found little Josh's pig. 

She had hid it under her linsey gown. 

But piggy began to squeal. 
You could almost have heard it to Egbertown, 

That shrill and angry peal. 

A soldier heard it quite too well, 

And seized him where he lay, 
"O, ho ! little piggy, you've rung a bell, 

I'll carry you, too, away !" 

Then granny's arms giew stiff and strong, 
And her fingers, they took good hold, 

She shook him hard, she shook him long, 
This soldier, brave and bold. 

She seized the trooper's scarlet coat. 

She pulled his yellow hair. 
She shook till he bleated like a goat, 

And he begged the old woman to spare. 



J 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

"You horrid critter, why, what do you mean, 

To rob an old woman so ? 
You miser' ble sneakin' horse-marine, 

You let that little pig go V\ 

The drum, it beat a loud recall. 

The old woman's grasp was sore. 
He was deaf and dazed by piggy's squall. 

So he dropped it on the floor. 

When Josh came home from the woods that night, 

A very scared boy was he, 
*'Come in," said granny, '* for you're all right. 

They havn't got little piggee !" 

Now, all small boys remember this tale, 

And the wish I wish to-day ; 
May you have a granny as brave and strong, 

When your piggy is stolen away ! 



THE WHITE KITTEN. 

Kitty, my pretty, white kitty. 

Why do you scamper away ? 
I've finished my work and my lesson 

And now I am ready to play. 

Come kitty, my own little kitty, 

I've brought you some milk, come and see 
Now drink while I put on my bonnet. 

Then you'll play in the garden with me. 



WHAT THE MINUTES SAY. 

We are but minutes, little things ! 
Each one furnished with sixty wings. 
With which we fly on our unseen track. 
And not a minute ever comes back. 

We are but minutes ; use us well. 
For how we are used we must one day tell. 
Who uses minutes, has hours to use ; 
Whose loses minutes, whole years must lose ! 



PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 

HOMELESS. 

The city grows darker and darker ; 

The work of the day is done, 

And out from the windows the red home-lights 

Come glimmering, one by one. 

The feet that are coming and going 
Tread faster, and yet more fast ; 
And two little street-sweeps are jostled aside 
By the crowd that is hurrying past. 

"O, Jim ;" sobs one, *'I'mso hungry, 

I didn't earn much to-day." 

'^Here's a biscuit I bought for a penny," says Jim, 

"This much we can share any way." 

So there in the bridge's shelter, 
The two weary forms sink down. 
And over the restless waters shine 
Che lights of the busy town. 

"Listen," says Joe, "to the hundreds 

Of footsteps that go and come ;" 

"Their work is over," Jim answers, "and now, 

I suppose they are going home. ' ' 

"What is home like, I wonder. 
Do you think Jim, we ever shall know?" 
"May be we'll find one yet," says Jim. 
"I hope so anyhow, Joe." 

So the heads droop lower and lower. 
Till, dreaming of warmth and light. 
The two little street-sweeps are slumbering 
Out in the louely night. 

—Ella F. Clyde. 

THE BEE'S SONG. 

Buzz ! buzz ! bazz ! 
This is the song of the bee. 
His legs are of yellow ; 
He's a jolly, good fellow, 
And yet a great worker is he. 



PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 

THE LAMB. 

Little Lamb, who made thee ? 
Little Lamb who made thee? 
Gave thee life and bade thee feed, 
By the streams and o'er the mead ? 
Gave thee clothing of delight? 
Softest clothing, wooly, bright ? 
Gave thee such a tender voice, 
Making all the vales rejoice? 
Little Lamb, who made thee, 
Little Lamb, who made thee. 

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, 
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, — 
He is called by thy name. 
For he called himself a lamb ; 
I a child, and thou a lamb, 
We are called by his name. 
Little Lamb, God bless thee, 
Little Lamb, God bless thee. 



Wordsivorth, 



BIRDIE AND BABY. 



What does little birdie say, 
In her nest at break of day ? 
**Let me fly," says little birdie, 
"Mother, let me fly away." 
''Birdie, wait a little longer. 
Till the little wings are stronger." 
So she rests a little longer. 
Then she flies, she flies away. 

What does little baby say. 
In her bed at peep of day ? 
Baby says, like little birdie, 
''Let me rise and fly away." 

"Baby, sleep a little longer, 
Till the little limbs are stronger. 
If she sleeps a little longer. 
Baby, too, shall fly away. ' ' 

— Tennyson. 



lo PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

LITTLE WHITE LILY. 

Little white Lily 
Sat by a stone, 
Drooping and waiting 
Till the sun shone. 
Little white Lily 
Sunshine has fed ; 
Little white Lily 
Is lifting its head. 
Little white Lily 
Said, *'It is good. 
Little white Lily's 
Clothing and food." 
Little white Lily 
Dressed like a bride, 
Shining with whiteness 
And crown'd beside ! 
Little white Lily 
Droopeth with pain, 
Waiting and waiting 
For the wet rain. 
Little white Lily 
Holdeth her cup; 
Rain is fast falling 
And filling it up. 
Little white Lily 
Said, ''Good again, 
When I am thirsty 
To have nice rain". 
Little white Lily 
Smells very sweet ; 
On her head sunshine. 
Rain at her feet. 
Thanks to the sunshme. 
Thanks to the rain, 
Little white Lily 
Is happy again. 



— George Mac Donald. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 
THE WAY TO DO IT. 

[dramatic : FOR A SMALL BOY]. 

ril tell you how I speak a piece, 
First, I make my bow, 
Then I bring my words out clear, 
And plain as I know. 

Next, I throw my hands up so, 
Then I lift my eyes. 
That's to let my hearers know 
Something doth surprise. 

Next I grin and show my teeth. 
Nearly every one, 

Shake my shoulders, hold my sides. 
That's the sign of fun. 

Next I start and knit my brows. 
Hold my head erect. 
Something wrong, you see, and I 
Decidedly object. 

Then I wobble at my knees, 
Clutch at shadows near. 
Tremble well from top to toe. 
That's the sign of fear. 

Soon I scowl and with a leap. 
Seize an airy dagger, 
Wretch ! I cry. That's tragedy, 
Every soul to stagger. 

Then I let my voice grow faint, 
Gasp and hold my breath. 
Tumble down and plunge about, 
That^s a villain's death. 

Quickly then I come to life, 
Perfectly restored. 
With a bow my speech is done. 
Now you'll please applaud. 

— Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

PAYING TOLI-. 

I will tell to you a legend 
Of the happy days gone by. 
When the fairies danced so gaily 
'Neath the star-lit, summer sky. 

Mab, the queen of all the fairies^ 
Built a bridge across a stream 
All of gossamer threads and sunshine, 
Fragile as a morning dream. 

Then she stationed theie a keeper, 
A green -coated, jolly fay 
Toll to ask ot every traveler 
Who might chance to pass that way. 

Theie through all the days in summer. 
Gatiiered he a wondrous store, 
Piled upon the shelves around him, 
Scattered all about the floor ; 

Song of robin, free and joyous. 
Honey from a laden bee. 
Perfume from a passing zephyr. 
Vision of a distant lea ; 

But one eve in falling twilight, 
Came a lovely, human maid, 
Down beneath the spreading maples, 
To the fairy-haunted glade. 

''Toll !'' the little keeper crieth, 
"Toll to pay before you pass !" 
''Neither gold nor jewels have I, 
Naugnt to pay with," says the lass. 

Quoth the jolly little keeper. 

With a twinkle in his eye, 

"Lips you have like twin, red rose-buds, 

Lend me those ere you pass by." 

So the maiden, blushing sweetly. 
Gave the saucy fay a kiss. 
And establihsed there a custom 
Kept from that day unto this ; 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 13 

So upon a bridge iu crossing, 
Man to maid doth ever say, 
^'Yoa must follow still the fashion, 
And 'pay loll' he good old way.'* 

— Z. F, M. 

THE NEW BONNET. 

A foolish little maiden bought a foolish little bonnet, 

With a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of lace upon it. 

And that all the other little maidens in the town might know it. 

She went to meeting Sunday, on purpose just to show it. 

And though this little bonnet was scarce larger than a dime. 

The getting of it settled proved to be a work of time. 

When at last 'twas fairly settled, all the bells had ceased their 

ringing, 
And when she got to meeting, sure enough the folks were singing. 

''Hallelujah ! Hallelujah !" sang the choir above her head, 
''Hardly knew you! Hardly knew you!" were the words she 

thought they said. 
This made the little maiden so very, very cross, 
That she gave her little mouth a twist, and her little head a toss. 

And she did not stop to listen to the sermon or the prayer, 
But pattered down the silent street, and hurried up the stair,. 
Till she reached her little bureau, and in a bandbox on it 
Had hidden safe from critics' eyes that foolish little bonnet;. 

Which proves, my little maidens, that each of you will find 

Every Sabbath service but an echo of your mind, 

And the little head that's filled with silly airs 

Will never get a blessing from sermon or from prayers ! 



LISTEN. 
Come look in my eyes, little children, 
And tell me, through all the long day. 
Have you thought of the Father above us, 
Who guarded from evil your way ? 
He heareth the cry of the sparrow. 
And careth for great and for small. 
In life and in death, little children, 
His love is the truest of all. 



14 



PR I MAR Y FRIDA YS. 
KISSING A SUNBEAM. 

Sunbeams, creeping through the maples, 
Flashed across the wmdow-pane, 
Lighting up the darken'd parlor 
Like a shower of golden ram. 

Baby, May, her white hands softly 
Folded in her mute surprise, 
Sat upright upon the carpet,— 
Baby-wonder in her eyes. 

Soon the little hands unloosing, 
Each essayed the toy to grasp, 
But in vain,— no shining substance 
Found she in their tightened clasp. 

Down she went upon the carpet, 
Creeping softly round and round, 
Making eager, restless movements, 
And a cooing, baby sound. 
Reaching now, and now bewildered, 
Bv her shining, new-found prize, 
All the while the baby wonder 
Beaming in her violet eyes. 
Wearied with the vain endeavor. 
Both the dimpled hands grew still, 
But the bright eyes watched the sunbeams 
Flitting here and there at will. 
Watched them as they danced about her, 
Liffhtins up the carpet gray,— 7 
Thfn slfe softly stooped and kissed them. 
Darling, precious, baby May. 

THE CONTRAST. 

The old woman sits at the cottage door 
That the heat of the sun she may teei, 

The little child plays on the sanded floor, 
And watches the turning wheel. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 1 5 

THE MONTHS. 

[for twelve little girls.] 

January : 

I bring the giy, the glad New Year, 
The sleigh-bells and the snow ; 
And hands grow cold, and hearts grow warm 
Wherever I may go. 

February : 

Saint Valentine and Washington 
Are honored while I stay. 
Say, don't you like a little bit, 
A February day ? 



March 



ipril. 



May 



■fie 



:uly : 



If I come in with snow and cold. 
You're sure to call me lion. 
And say I'll be jusJt like a lamb. 
When poor old March is dying. 

I smile, and weep, then smile again, 
And then I smile and weep. 
And so you say sweet -April's here. 
Are the violets asleep? 

When fair Miy-day has come again, 
And all the grass grows green. 
Then don't you think that I'm the month, 
That you would crovvn the queen ? 

When sweet June's roses bloom for you, 
And just to live is heaven, 
Then don't you think that I'm the best 
Of months to earth-folk given ? 

When comes the Fourth with its fun and noise, 
And its lovely summer weather. 
Then are not you and calm July 
The best of friends together ? 



1 6 PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

August: 

I bring rich berries, ripe and red, 

And a golden summer's day, 

And the children play through the long, long hours 

In the fields of new-mown hay. 
September : 

I am the month when trees grow bright, 

I ripen all the fruit ; 

If September isn't your favorite month 

You are very hard to suit, 

October : 

The mellow fruit and golden days, 
October's gifts are here ; 
October is the brightest month. 
Of all the happy year. 

November : 

When the soft snows and merry days — 

November's charms, are here. 

Then don't you like me best of all 

The winter of the year ? 
Deceml)er: 

But when Kriss Kringle with his pack. 

His rein-deer and his sleigh. 

Has brought to all your hearts and homes 

The merry Christmas day, 

Then don't you like me best of all ? 

I'm full of fun and play. 

Can any body ever doubt 

"December's as pleasant as May" ? 



A BOUQUET. 

[for four little girls.] 
I. 

My cheeks are like wild roses, 
My eyes are pearly gray. 
And my brow is like a snow-drop 
Upon a winter's day. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 17 

II. 

I'm the merriest little maiden, 
In all the merry town \ 
I guess I am a chestnut, 
Because my eyes are brown. 

III. 
I am a little violet, 
My eyes are very blue, 
M/ breath is sweetest fragrance, 
And dearly I love you. 

IV. 
I am a royal pansy. 
My eyes are black as jet ; 
My pleasant, happy little face 
You never will forget. 

All. 
We are a dainty circle 
From valley, hill, and wood ; 
If we're nice as we are pretty. 
Won't we be very good? 



THE QUESTION. 

''Sleep, baby, sleep," the mother sings, 
In chorus low, the words she hymns, 
"He is the lamb of God on high, 
Who for our sakes came down to die ! ' ' 

Slowly the baby opened wide 
The lids that sleepy brown eyes hide, 
*'Did Jesus from the big blue sky. 
For Eva's sake come down to die?" 

In loving words the mother told 
The story, ever new though old. 
The baby listened to the words 
As flDwers list to singing birds ; 

Brown lashes lie along her cheek, 
The little girl is fast asleep ; 
A smile the parted red lip§ stir. 
Listen ! the angels talk to her. 



1 



l8 rRlMAR V FRIDA YS 



The sunshine streams across the floor, 
The children at the open door 
Throw to the hen, with brood of chicks, 
The dainty morsel that she picks. 

"Say, mamma," said a little voice, 
''You s'pose the angels will rejoice ? 
Did Jesus from the heaven-sky 
For chicky's sake come down to die ?" 

Scarce could her clasping fingers hold 
The dead chick, by its throat of gold, 
In baby ignorance of death. 
Ah ! childish trust and simple faith. 

A little shoe — a tiny dress, 
Bright, sunny hair — a silken tress 
Are all the mother has in store 
Of little Eva gone before ; 

But unto her there comes sometimes 
The memory of the childish rhymes : 
''Did Jesus from the heaven-sky. 
For chicky's sake comedown to die?" 



TINY MAGGIE DOG. 

There was a tiny maiden, 
Her name was Maggie Doo, 
She found a tiny pebble, 
In her tiny buttoned shoe. 

She put her tiny finger 
Beside her tiny heel. 
And pulled her tiny stocking, 
The tiny stone to feel. 

But when she put the pebble 
On the floor beside the wall 
She found a tiny penny, 
No pebble there at all ! 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 19 

She took the tiny penny, 

And she bought a tiny toy, 

Which she gave away next morning. 

To a tiny beggar boy. 

And a happier little maiden, 

I'm sure you never knew, 

Than the one who found that penny, — 

This tiny Maggie Doo. 



The little girl who bit her tongue 
Has gone into the yard to swing, ' 
She'll soon forget that she bit her tongue, 
Hark ! do you hear her sing ? 

The little boy who lost his knife. 

And lost his big new top, 
Is down the garden playing 
Hippity-hippity-hop. 



Good night, dear schoolmates, let us all 
Come early here on Monday, 
And let us learn our verses well 
To say in school on Sunday. 



THE EARLY BIRD. 

Up in the morning early. 

Just at dawn of day ; 

Happy while I'm working, 

Happy while I play. 

O, is It not far better 

To be happy while we live. 

And show our friends we love them 

For the blessings that they give ? 

NOW. 

What's the use of looking forward 
To the coming "Bye-and-Bye" ? 
What's the use ot mourning ever 
Only clouds are in my sky ? 
Listen, please, to my reply : 

Pleasure now. 



^ 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

Why ! the flowers of life are fading 
All along your roadway side, 
Just because you're always dreaming 
Of what, mayhap, will betide, 
Every day is broad and wide, — ' 

Pleasure now. 



SUNBEAMS. 

If I were a sunbeam, 
I know what I would do, — 
I'd s>eek the whitest lilies 
The rainy woodland through. 
Stealing in among them, 
The softest light I'd shed. 
Until each graceful lily 
Raised its drooping head. 

If I were a sunbeam, 
I know where I would go, — 
Into the lowliest hovels. 
All dark with want and woe, 
Until sad hearts look upward, 
I there would shine and shine. 
Then they would think of heaven, 
Their sweet home and mine. 

ANGRY WORDS. 

Angry words too oft are spoken 
In a rash and thoughtless hour, 
Brightest links of life are broken 
By their false and evil power. 

Angry words too oft are spoken ; 
Evil thoughts by them are stirred ; 
Brightest links of life are broken 
By a single angry word. 

Angry words, oh ! let them never 
From your tongue unbridled slip ; 
May a gentle spirit, ever. 
Check them ere they soil the lip. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

MY MAMMA IS GP.OWING GRAY. 
My dear mamma is growing gray, 
I saw it first last night, 
My heart's so sad I cannot play, 
There's nothing around me bright ! 
I said to grandmamma, one night, 
*'If I were good as you, 
Would Jesus make my hair as white 
And all to love me, too?" 
She smiling said, ''My little one. 
These locks imply decay ; 
They say that life will soon be done, 
And grandma pass away ! ' ' 
And grandma's life was shortly done. 
Grandma did pass away ; 
And must my mamma, too, go soon. 
Why won't God let her stay? 
But I will dry up all my tears. 
And go to Him and pray — 
' 'Please spare my mamma many years. 
If she is growing gray. ' ' 



GRANDPAPA'S SPECTACLES. 

O, mamma, what will grandpa do? 

He's gone away to heaven, 

Without his silver spectacles 

That Uncle John had given. 

How can he read his Bible there, 

Or find his hickory staif ? 

He'll put his coat on wrong side out. 

And make the people laugh ! 

He'll have no little girl up there 

He'll like so well as me, 

To run and hunt them up for him 

And put them on his knee. 

So, mamma, if you'll dress me up, 

Just like an angel bright, 

I'll put our ladder 'gainst the sky. 

And take them up to-night. 



1 



PRIMAR Y FRIDA YS, 

THE LITTLE BOY'S DREAM. 
Last night when I was in bed, 
Such fun it was to me, 
I dreamed that I was grandpapa, 
And grandpapa was me. 
I thought I wore a powdered wig. 
Drab shorts and gaiters buff, 
And took, without a single sneeze, 
A double pinch of snuff. 
But he was such a tiny boy, 
And dressed in baby-clothes ; 
And I thought I smacked his face because 
He wouldn't blow his nose. 
And I went walking up the street. 
And he ran by my side ; 
But because I walked too fast for him. 
The little fellow cried. 
And after tea, I washed his face. 
And when his prayers were said, 
I blew the candle out, and left 
Poor grandpapa to cry in bed. 

THE PUMPKIN. 
Little folks are much beholden 
To the pumpkin fair and golden. 
Who, within a pumpkin shell, 
Put his wife, and kept her well ? 
Peter Peter was the man. 
Catch the fellow if you can. 
Cinderilla, for her carriage, 
Cinderilla, for htr marriage. 
To the pumpkin owed a debt, — 
Has she paid it, think you, yet? 
Jack-a -Lantern is beholden 
To the pumpkin, fair and golden, 
But the shell is his alone, 
For the pum.pkin pie's our own, 
And if we the stalk can take. 
We a pipe to play on, make. 

— The Nursery, 



PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 23 

THE WINDMILL. 

Busily, busily, turn the sails, 

Never they linger, unless the wind fails. 

Small must the breeze be, 

They cannot use ; 
Who ever saw them. 

Their labor refuse ? 

While they are turning, 

Their work to fulfill. 
Many a lesson 

I learn from the mill : 

Learn to use gladly, 

All means in my way. 
Thankful to labor, 

While it is day. 

CHRISTMAS. 
Again the Christmas holidays have come. 
We soon shall hear the trumpet and the drum ; 
We'll hear the merry shout of girls and boys 
Rejoicing o'er their gifts of books and toys. 

Old Santa Claus comes by at dead of night. 
And down the chimney creeps, — a funny sight ! 
He fills the stockings full of books and toys, 
But puts in whips for naughty girls and boys. 

SILVER STARS. 

Ere the silver stars arise. 
Ere soft slumber seal your eyes. 
Children bid your quarrels cease, 
Let the sun go down in peace. 

BABY-LAND 

Which is the way to baby-land ? 

Which is the way to baby-land ? 

Up one flight, 

Turn to your right. 

That is the way to baby-land. 




24 PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

FLOWERS. 

[For Four Little Girls.] 

When the summer time has come^ 

Summer-time, 
Blossoming in field and wood, 

Happy time, — 
Roses red and roses white, 

Lovely flowers. 
Blossoming by day and night. 

Joyous hours. 

I'm a violet sweet and blue. 

Sweet and blue, 
I'm the fairest of. all flowers, 

I am true ; 
I bring welcome to the May, 

To the May, 
And I sing content and joy 

All the day. 

Happy little daisies rare. 

Daisies rare. 
Smiling in the sunny air. 

Sunny air. 
We the daisies gaily sing. 

Gaily sing. 
While the long spring daytime through^ 

Blossoming. 
I'm a lily pure and white. 

Pure and white. 
And I bloom in innocence. 

Love and light ; 
I teach purity of soul 

Unto all, 
Love the Lord of Earth and Heaven 

Great and small. 



THE CHICKEN'S MISTAKE. 
A little, downy chicken, one day. 
Asked leave to go on the water ; 
Where she saw a duck with her brood at play 
Swimming and splashing around her. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 25 

Indeed, she began to peep and cry, 

When her mother wouldn't let her, 

"If the ducks can swim there, why can't I ? 

Are they any bigger or better?" 

Then the old hen answered, * 'Listen to me, 

And hush your foolish talking, 

Just look at your feet and you will see 

They were only made for walking." 

But chicky wistfully eyed the brook, 

And didn't half listen either; 

For she seemed to say by a knowing look, 

''Such stories couldn't deceive her." 

And as her mother was scratching the ground, 

She muttered lower and lower, 

"I know I can go there and not be drowned, 

And so I think I'll show her." 

Then she made a plunge where the stream was deep, 

And saw too late her blunder. 

For she had hardly time to peep. 

Till her foolish head went under. 

And now I hope he. fate will show 

The child my story reading, 

That those who are older sometimes know 

What you will do well in heeding. 

That each content in his place should dwell. 

And envy not his brother ; 

For any part that is acted well. 

Is just as good as another. 

For we all have our proper sphere below ; 

And this is a truth worth knowing. 

You will come to grief if you try to go 

Where you never were made for going. 

— Phcebe Cary. 

BE HAPPY. 

Children, struggle hard and pray. 
To drive all naughty thoughts away. 
Then you'll be happy all day long. 
As wild birds in their morning song. 



^^ PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 



FOUR SEASONS. 
Spring: - C^OR four children.] 

I am the Spring; with sunshine see me coming 

Joy to every human heart are what I bring with me. 
Summer: 

Cornf,n7 *''/?""g °'- °W a more welcome com^r? 
Come and scent the new-mown grass ; by the hillside strav 
And confess that only June brings the perfect day 
Autumn : 

fl^ f^^^'-^ath about my head, wreath of richest flowers 
I am Autumn, and I bring joyful happy hours ' 

Cor7and"airth'°"'' "^' ".'^''^'^ "^<= ^-pe juice holds, 
WinZ '"''''"°"' Autumn's arm enfolds. 

?m ^h.^;^ ^'^"^ the hoUy-wreath, in my hand the pine • 

Christmas comes with winter-time to make the children glad. 

— The Nursery. 

THE DRAY HORSE AND THE RACER. 

''Wxhat a dull life yours is I" 
Said a racer to a dray-horse, 
^*^'Dull enough," said the dray-horse. 

YOU must feel uncommonly stupid " 
'^Stupid enough," said the dray-horse. 

TOMMY GRACeT" 

Little Tommy Grace 

Had such a pain in his face, 

That he couldn't say a letter ; 

When in came Dicky Long, 

Singing such a funny song, ' 

Tommy found his face very much better. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 27 

THE STORM. 

Pile on the wood, pile on the wood, 
For furious is the storm j 
There's nothing half so good 
As fire to keep folks warm. 



GRACIE'S MALTA. 



"Mamma," said little Gracie, 
"I'm tired of our big cat, 
I want a Maltese kitty 
No higher up than that. 

"Yuu told me just last evening. 
When I went to bed up stairs. 
That if I'd tell God all I want. 
He'd say *Yes' to my prayers. 

"I guess I'll pray a minute : 
Dt-rar Lord, up in the sky. 
Won't you please give me a Malta, 
About three inches high?" 

When (what do you think !) little Gracie 
Heard a little kitty mi aow. 
When her papa looked in the cellar, 
(You'll scarce believe me now). 

He found a tiny Maltese cat. 
As gray as gray could be, 
And he took it to the kitchen. 
For his girlie Grace to see. 

Grace took the little kitty, 
And hugged it up so tight, 
And smiled up at her mamma, 
With her small face very bright. 

"I love my kitty, mamma, 
I love the dear Lord, too, 
Fo'- giving me my kitty, 
Say, mamma, wouldn'^ you?" 

— Mother Goose. 



28 PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 

BEAUTIFUL GRANDMAMMA. 

Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair, 

Never a lady so sweet and fair ; 

Her grey locks ripple like silver shells, 

And her brow its own calm story tells 

Of a gentle life and a peaceful even, 

Of a trust in God and a hope of heaven. 

Litt e girl May sits singing away, 

In her own low chair like some winsome fay, 

Two doll-babies her kisses share. 

And a third one lies by the side of her chair ; 

May is as fresh as the morning dew. 

Cheeks of roses, and ribbons all blue. 

"Say, grandmamma," said the pretty elf, 

*'Tell me a story about yourself. 

When you were little, what did you play? 

Were you good or naughty the whole long day ? 

Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago ? 

And what makes your soft hair as white as the snow?" 

Grandmamma smiled at the little maid. 

Then laying aside her knitting, she said, 

"Run to my desk and a red box you'll see ; 

Carefully lift and bring it to me. ' ' 

And May put away her dollies and ran. 

Saying, "I'll be careful as ever I can!" 

Then grandmamma opened the box, and, lo ! 

A beautiful child with throat like snow, 

Hands all dimples, and teeth like pearls. 

Fairest and sweetest of little girls. 

"O, who is she?" cried winsome May, 

"How I wish she was here to-day ! 

Wouldn't I love her like everything. 

Give her a doll and my new gold ring ! 

Say, grandmamma, who can she be?" 

"Darling", said grandma, "That child was me." 

May looked long at the dimpled grace. 

Then at the dear, old, saint-like face, 

"How funny !" she cried with a smile and a kiss 

"To have such a dear little grandma as this ! 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS, 29 

But Still'" she added, with smiling zest, 
'*I think, dear grandma, I like you best. 

Then May climbed on the silken knee, 

And grandma told her history, 

What plays she played, what toys she had. 

How the times she was naughty, and good, and sad, 

^'But the best thmg you did," said May, ''don't you see? 

Was to grow to be a beautiful grandma for me." 

— Anon. 



TOO LITTLE. 



Johnny and May and Dickey an--^ Bell 

Were goir.g down to the Daisy Dell \ 

*T know you're going, know very well ; 

Take me too !" said dear little Nell. 

"Too much bother, says lazy John. 

May, *'Who wants you tagging along?" 

''Too little !" said Bell. ''Course !" said Dick; 

"Hurry now, Nellie, and grow up quick," 

Two sweet lips to quivering fell ; 

"Too little for what?" said dear little Nell. 

"Too little," cried mother, "too little to bear 

Our portion in life, — a burden of care. 

"Too little a heart for trouble to weigh, 

Too little for tears a moment to stay ; 

Of wrongs and rebuffs too little to know ; 

From mother's own side too little to go. 

"Let Johnny and May and Dickie and Bell 

Go frolicking down to the Daisy Dell ; 

But mother and Nell and pussy-cat-mew 

Will have the merriest picnic too." 

The quivering broke in showers of smiles 

When mother went on to tell of piles 

Of strawberry cakes, and candies, too. 

With bread and milk for pussy-cat-mew. 

The four round faces visibly fell, — 

Looked sober enough at mother and Nell \ 

She nestled and said : "I'd much rather stay ; 

I ain't too little for you, anyway." 



30 PRIMAR y FRIDA YS. 

MY DEAR KITTY. 

Have you seen my little Kitty ? 

Her fur is solt as silk, 

And every day I feed her 

With bread and sweet, new milk. 

Her feet they are like velvet, 

As she goes pat along, 

And her soft and gentle purring 

Is like a pleasant song. 

Her ears are small and furry. 
Her neck and back are white, 
Her eyes are like two tiny lamps, 
To light her in the night. 
She has no hat or bonnet. 
But o'er her shoulders thrown 
Is a mantle of chinchilla 
To keep her nice and warm. 

Kitty and I run races, 
And play at hide-and-seek ; 
Or she will climb the cherry-tree. 
And through its branches peek. 
I have never hurt my Kitty, 
Or scolded her or teased. 
For she is God's own creature. 
And He would not be pleased. 

THE BEST WAY TO BE HAPPY. 
I think I should like to be happy to-day, 
If I could but tell which was the easiest way ; 
But then, I don't know any new play. 
And as to the old ones, — why, which is the best? 
There's fine blind man's buff, hide-and-seek, and the rest ; 
Or pretending its tea-time, when dollies are dressed ! 
But no, let me see ! now I've thought of a way. 
Which would make me quite happy at work or at play, 
I'll try to be good, if I can, the whole day. 
Without any fretting or crying ; oh, no, 
That would make me unhappy wherever I go. 
And 'twould be a pity to spoil the day so. 



PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 31 

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP. 

In the quiet nursery chambers, 
Snowy pillows yet unpressed, 
See the forms of little children, 
Kneeling, white-robed for their rest. 
All in quiet nursery chambers, 
While the dusky shadows creep, 
Hear the voices of the children — 
Now I lay me down to sleep. 

*'If we die" — so pray the children. 
And the mother's head droops low; 
(One from out her fold is sleeping 
Deep beneath the winter's snow), — 
''Take our souls;" and past the casement 
Flits a gleam of crystal light. 
Like the trailing of His garments. 
Walking evermore in white. 



THE GREAT BROWN OWL. 

The brown owl sits in the hollow tree. 
And she looketh wondrous wise 
With a horny beak beneath her cowl ; 
And a pair of large round eyes. 

She sits all day in the self-same place, 
Frorh sunrise till sunset ; 
And the dim gray light was all too bright. 
For the owl to see in yet. 

''Jenny Owlet, Jenny Owlet," said a merry little bird, 
'•They say you're wondrous wise ; 
But I don't think you see, though you're looking at me, 
With your large, round, shining eyes. 

But night came soon, and the pale white moon 
Rolled high up in the skies ; 
And the great brown owl flew away in her cowl, 
With her large, round shining eyes. 



32 PR IMA R V FRIDA YS. 

WHAT I WANT. 

I want a piece of calico 
To make my doli a dress ; 

I don't want a big piece; 
A yard '11 do I guess.. 

I wish you 'd fred my needle, 
And find' my fimble too — 

I has such heaps o' sewin' 
I don't know what to do. 

My Hepsy tore her apron 
A tum'lin' down the stair, 

And Caesar's lost his pantaloons 
And needs anozzer pair. 

I want my Maud a bonnet — 
She hasn't none at all ; 

And Fred must have a jacket — 
His ozzer one's too small. 

I wants to go to Grandma's, 
You promised me I might, 

I know she'd like to see me, 
I wants to go to-night. 

She lets me wash the dishes 
And see in Grandpa's watch, 

I wish I'd free four pennies 
To buy some butter-scotch. 

I wants some newer mittens — 
I wish you 'd knit me some, 

'Cause most my finger freezes 
They leak so in the fum ; 

I wored 'em out last winter 
A pullin' Georgie's sled ; 

I wish you wouldn't laugh so, 
It hurts me in my head. 

I wish I had a cookie, 
I'm hungry as I can be — 

If you hasn' t pretty large ones 
You better bring me free. 



PRIMAR Y FRIDA YS. 33 

I wish I had an organ — 

Won't you buy me ^ne to keep ? 

O, dear, I feel so tired, 
I wants to go to sleep. 

ROBIN REDBREAST. 

Little Robin Redbreast 
Sat upon a tree, 
Up went pussy-cat 
And down went he \ 

Down came pussy-cat, 
Away Robin ran, 
Said little Robin Redbreast, 
"Catch 7ne if you can." 

Little Robin Redbreast 
Jumped upon a wall ; 
Up jumped pussy-cat. 
And had a little fall. 

Robin Redbreast chirped and sung, 
And what did pussy say ? — 
Pussy-cat said, "Mew, Mew, Mew," 
And Robin flew away. 

— Mother Goose. 



MARY'S JUMPING-JACK. 

Dear little Mary, with eyes so blue. 
What has Santa Claus brought for you ? 

He has brought me a cup and a curly sheep. 
And a cradle where dolly may go to sleep. 

But best of all is this funny box. 

That winds with a key just like the clocks. 

And when you've wound the spring up tight. 
The monkey dances with all his might, 

And Fido barks, and the puppies play ; 
We're all very happy this Christmas-day. 

— The Nursery. 



34 PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 

SPRING HAS COME. 

Spring has come back to us, beautiful spring, 
Blue-birds and swallows are out on the wing ; 
Over the meadows a carpet of green, 
Softer and richer than velvet, is seen. 
Up come the blossoms, so bright, and so gay,. 
Giving sweet odors to welcome the May. 
Sunshine and music are flooding the air. 
Beauty and brightness are everywhere. 



COMING FROM SCHOOL. 

Dear little Anna Bell 
Coming from school : 
Heeding her mamma's words, 
''Break not a rule ;" 
Heeding her mamma's words. 
Kind and true ; 
Learn every lesson well 
Given to you. 

Homeward she trips along. 
Eyes full of light. 
Cheeks red as roses. 
And footsteps so light. 
Sweet are <-he kisses, 
That wait for her lips, 
Sweet as the nectar 
Ihe honey-bee sips. 

KISS OF THE RAIN. 

Pretty little rain-drops. 
Laughing, kissed the daisy. 
Dozing on its couch of green, 
Oh, so hot and lazy ! 

Then the daisy upward sprang, 
And sang out so gaily, 
"Kiss again, oh ! kiss again. 
Rain-drops, soft, I pray ye !" 



PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 35 

THE ROBIN'S NEST. 

A robin's nest in the ivy hung, 
Like a tiny cradle it lightly swung 
To and fro with each passing breeze, 
That gently ruffled the ivy leaves. 

Two little light brown heads peeped out ; 
What was the mother so long about ? 
O, for a worm ! O, for a fly ! 
This was the baby robins' cry. 

Under the tree and under the hill, 
Stood a cottage beside the mill ; 
And, idly leaning over the gate, 
Two boys were sealing the robin's fate. 

*T will climb up the rock," said Ben, 
''AH right, we will call it settled then." 
So he handed down the poor little nest, 
With the baby robins in soft down dressed. 

O, mischievous boy ! I greatly fear 
You will pay ior your purchase very dear. 
Already the birdie drops his head, 
The poor little thing will soon be dead. 

But Bessie laughed in her childish glee, 
And cried, "Dont grieve, I will set you free; 
Wake up, dear robins, look up, look out, 
See for a moment what I am about." 

So she gently took the dear little nest 
With the baby robins in soft down dressed, 
And climbing the rock so high and so steep, 
She laid them down in the leaves to sleep. 



BE CAREFUL. 

Not anything should I destroy, 
Which others may for good employ ; 
Not even tread beneath my feet, 
A crumb some little bird might eat. 



36 PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

AN INDIGNATION MEETING. 

Down in a quiet corner, 
Nestling at eventide, 
Three little curly urchins 
All in a bunch I spied, — 
Fred and Harry and Josie, 
'Twas really a funny sight. 
Three little heads together. 
Scolding with all their might. 

Fred, chairman of the meeting, — 

"I'd really like to know, 

What makes the grown up people 

Bother about us so ! 

Can't have a speck of comfort. 

Can't have a bit of fun. 

But they're just sure to meddle, 

And spoil it 'fore it's done ! 

" To-day, when I brought my soldiers. 
Such a jolly pack of boys ; 
For a charge through the parlor, Annie 
Cried out, 'What a dreadful noise ; 
Shoo, shoo, you merry Vandals 
Some other place must find.' 
Oh! if we was only big folks, 
Wouldn't we make 'em mind !" 

Then burst in speaker Harry, 

With eyes and cheeks aflame ; 

"O, wouldn't we 'tend to the big folks ! 

I think it's just a shame ! 

To-day I took for a kite-tail 

The first thing that I found, 

A shiny silk mantilla. 

And cut it all around. 

"Itnrde a jolly streamer. 

When in walked sister Sue, 

Dragged off the shiny tell-tail 

And dragged me with 't, too — 

O, wasn't she mad ! She whipped me. 

As hard as she saw fit. 



PRIMA R V FRIDA VS. 37 

But I wouldn't cry to p]ease her, 
I didn't care a bit," 

"Of course," chimed in wee Josie, 
"It's as mean as it can be, 
The way these big- folks peoples 
Act up with you and me; 
Why, even when my baby, 
My darling pussy died, 
Nobody made a fun'ral. 
Nobody even cried. 

'* Nurse tucked it in the ash box, 
'Only a dead old cat,' 
She said, 'You silly Josie, 
To snivel over that !' 
I watched till she didn't see me. 
It wasgettin' to be 'most night. 
And I buried my darling kitty. 
Deep down from big folks' sight." 

Down in the quiet corner, 
Soberly side by side. 
Later, three curly urchins 
Stretched at full length I spied. 
Fred and Harry and Josie 
A peaceful silence keep j 
The indignation meeting. 
Had put them all to sleep. 

— The Reading Club, 



THE CLOSE-FISTED DEACON. 

A close-fisted deacon in class -meeting rose. 
And balanced himself on his heels and his toes; 
And he sniffled and said, as he wiped off the tears : 
"I've been a church-member these forty odd years; 
To all of the love- feasts and meetings I've went. 
And all my religion haintcost me a cent!" 

Then from a dark corner, a voice loud and d eep, 
Responded, "Amen ! your religion is cheap !" 



38 PRIMARY FRIDAYS. 

THE SPARROW. 

What does the sparrow chirp, 
Gathering food, 

All the day over 

To feed its young brood. 

Dear little children 
Waste not the day ; 
Always remember 

That work sweetens play. 



ON A SUNDAY MORNING. 

On a Sunday morning, 

How pleasant 'tis to hear 

The church bells chiming merrily, 

So musical and clear. 

As I, musing, listen, 
Thus they seem to say — 
^'Little Mary, come to church, 
Come to church to-day." 



MR. TONGUE, 

My friend Mr. Tongue 
He lives in my mouth, 
He's red as a rose. 
And as warm as the south ; 
He has not a foot. 
Yet how quickly he goes. 
My little friend Tongue, 
As red as a rose. 



LITTLE MOMENTS. 

Little moments make an hour 
Little thoughts a book ; 

Little seeds a tree or flower ; 
Water-drops, a brook. 

Little deeds of faith and love 

Make a home for you above. 



PRIMAR V FRIDA YS. 39 

HALF-PAST-EIGHT. 

Half past eight, half past eight ! 
School-bell's ringing — don't be late ! 
Get your books and pens and papers, 
Don't be cutting truant capers. 
Half past eight, half past eight ! 
School-bell's ringing — don't be late. 



OUR ''BOSSY." 

O, I love our pretty ''Bossy," 
Patient cow she is, and mild. 
Standing in the barn-yard musing. 
Never is she cross or wild. 
O, I love our pretty "Bossy," 
Standing in the winter's sun. 
Chewing still her cud so slowly, 
Rolling it beneath her tongue. 
And I would not hurt our "Bossy," 
She is always kind to me. 
And I know that I'm the gainer. 
If I kind and gentle be. 
For the Lord who made our " Bossy, '^ 
Loves to see his children mild. 
And I'm sure none can e'er love 
Any cross or cruel child. 
For He made both me and "Bossy," 
And He heeds the sparrow's fall, 
Let us never hurt His creatures, 
For His eye is over all. 



THE OLD WELL. 

Beside the dusty highway, 

In sight of the village green. 

Where the old oak throws its shadow, 

An ancient well is seen. 

Close by its clear, cool waters. 

There stands a mossy seat. 

And o'er it in quaint old letters, 

"Rest for the weary feet." 



40 PRIMA R V FRIDA YS. 

DOCTOR CHARLIE. 

Run for the doctor ! Dolly 's very sick ! 
Mary, you must go, I cannot leave her; 
Tell him to pack his bottle and come quick, 
I think she has a very dangerous fever. 

In stalks a hat and cane ; if you look close, 
You'll see Doctor Charlie under; 
He takes a pinch of snuff and wipes his brow. 
While poor, sick Dolly stares in wonder. 

He feels her pulse, he gravely shakes his head ; 

His hat dropped o'er his eyes with the shake he gave it; 

He says poor Dolly must be put to bed, 

And have her head shaved — he in fact will shave it. 

Poor mamma sober looks, but says, at once, 

That Dolly's head shall not t>e shaved ! I guess not ! 

"Her hair would never grow again, you dunce;" 

"It shall !" "It shan't!" "She'll die then if it's not !' 

But Mary, ere the quarrel gets too grave 
(Already in her hand a bowl of gruel). 
Says, "Don't you think that doctors do not shave? 
And then besides it really would be cruel !" 

"I'll give her pills, then, when she's safe in bed, 
Plenty and sweet — of sugar I will make them ; 
As Dolly cannot eat, 'twill do instead, 
For you and me and Mary here to take them. ' ' 



GOD SEES ME. 

God sees me every day. 
When I work and when I play, 
When I read and when I talk, 
When I run and when [ walk, 
When I eat and when I drink, 
When I only sit and think. 
When I laugh and when I cry, 
God is ever watchincr nisrh. 



PRIMAR V FRIDA KS. 41 

CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

[for four children : one larger than the others.] 

I. Little children, can you tell — ; 
Do you know the story well, 
Every girl and every boy, 
Why the angels sang for joy 
On the Christmas morning ? 

Three together : 

Yes, we know the story well ; 
Listen now, and hear us tell, 
Every girl and every boy. 
Why the angels sang for joy. 
On the Christmas morning. 

Shepherds sat upon the ground, 
Fleecy flocks were scattered round, 
When tl-e brightness filled the sky. 
And the s^mg was- heard on high. 
On that Christmas morning. 

Toy and peace the angels sang. 
And the pleasant echoes rang. 
Peace on earth, to men good-will j 
Hark ! the angels sing it still. 
On the Christmas morning. 

IF I WERE YOU~ 
What would I do if I were you ? 
First thing I'd make a rule 
To put my hat and boots in place 
When I come home from school. 

What would I do if I were you ? 
I wouldn't pout and cry, 
Because I couldn't have my way 
About a piece of pie. 

What would I do if I were you ? 
I'd speak a pleasant word 
To this and that one in the house. 
And not be as sour as curd. 



42 PRIMAR Y FRIDA YS, 

If I were you, my little friend, 
I'd try to be so good. 
That my example all around 
Might follow if they would. 



FROGS AT SCHOOL. 

Twenty froggies went to school, 
Down beside a rushy pool. 
Twenty little coats of green. 
Twenty nests all white and clean ; 
"We must be in time," said they; 
"First we study, then we play; 
That is how we keep the rule. 
When we froggies go to school." 

Master Bullfrog, grave and stern. 

Called the classes in their turn ; 

Taught them how to nobly strive. 

Likewise how to leap and dive; 

From his seat upon a log. 

Taught them how to say "kerchog !" 

Also how to dodge a blow 

From the sticks which bad boys throw. 

Twenty froggies grew up fast ; 
Bullfrogs they became at last ; 
Not one dunce among the lot, 
Not one lesson they forgot ; 
Polished in a high degree. 
As each froggie ought to be ; 
Now they sit on other logs. 
Teaching other little frogs ! 



SEVEN TIMES ONE. 



There's no dew left on the daisies and clover. 

There's no rain left in heaven ; 
I've said my seven times over and over^^ 

Seven times one are seven. 



PRIMAR Y FRIDA YS, 43 

I am old, SO old I can write a letter, 

My birthday lessons are done ; 
The lambs play always, they know no better, 

They are only one times one. 

O, moon, in the night I have seen you sailing, 

And shining so round and low, 
You were bright, ah ! bright, but your light is failing. 

You are nothing now but a bow. 

You, moon, have you done something wrong in heaven 

That God has hidden your face ? 
I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven, 

And shine again in your place. 

O, velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow. 

You've powdered your legs with gold ; 
O, brave marsh-mary buds, rich and yellow. 

Give me your honey to hold. 

O, columbine, open your folded wrapper. 

Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ; 
O, cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple-clapper. 

That hangs in your clear green bell. 

And show me the nest with your young-ones in it, 

I will not steal them away, 
I am oid ! you may trust me, linnet, linnet, 

I am seven times one to-day. 

— Jean Ingelow. 



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